Page 36 of Baby Daddy Protector

“Thank you, my son. And send my daughter back in, will you? I’ll need to convince her about all this, too.”

I walked out of the room to find Es leaning against the wall not far away. She brushed the backs of her hands across her damp cheeks and straightened as I approached.

“Well? What did he say?” she asked.

“He explained why he wants us to get married today, and I told him we’ll do it.”

“But what about the ceremony we have planned?” Es asked, her face flushed and her movements wild. “I’m not prepared at all. I don’t have my dress or my stylist or the vows I’d written.”

“You wrote vows?” I asked, placing my hands on her shoulders to calm her. I wasn’t surprised that Es would compose her own vows for her wedding. That was her to a T—unique and adorable and unforgettable. But I was surprised she’d gone to the trouble for me, considering this was all a just a business arrangement. Wasn’t it?

Instead of answering directly, she gave a small nod and looked away. “I thought it would help create the illusion we were really in love.”

“Hmm.” I pondered that while a monitor beeped in the king’s room and several members of the medical staff ran to check on him. We needed to get a move on if we hoped to get this wedding accomplished before the king passed. Things were going downhill fast. “Don’t worry about any of that. We can have a ceremony here with the chaplain, to please your father, then do the regular ceremony later, if we want. I’m going to find the minister now. Your father asked to see you again.”

Es exhaled slowly then looked up at me, her hazel eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “He’s dying.”

“I know. And I’m so, so sorry, princess.” I pulled her into my arms and kissed the top of her head. “But we’ll get through this, I promise. I’m right here by your side and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry about our fight. I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

“Me neither.” I smiled into the top of her hair, inhaling her sweet, flowery scent. “Now go in there and spend time with your father while I find this chaplain, so we can get this going, okay?”

“Okay.” Es released me and I backed away slowly, watching her square her shoulder before walking back into her father’s room. She was so much stronger than she gave herself credit for and I loved her for it.

Even if I’d never tell her so.

TWENTY-FIVE

“Do you, Zachary Raybourn, take this woman, Esme Hollycombe, to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the chaplain asked me. The king’s hospital room was eerily quiet, except for the monotonous beeps of the monitors and the occasional whirr of the heating vents in the ceiling. Not exactly how I’d pictured my wedding day. In fact, I couldn’t really remember ever thinking about marriage much at all, at least until I’d met Es and we’d struck our deal.

Still, here I was, and we were doing this—all to make the dying king happy.

And maybe because I wanted to make Es happy, too.

“I do,” I said, the words oddly rough in the small room.

She gave me a watery smile as she slid a simple gold band onto my ring finger, her hands trembling. I held her icy hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze for support. She’d put on such a brave face through all this—handling all the arrangements, making the necessary statements to the media, even graciously dealing with the well-wishers and mourners who’d shown up to fill the street outside.

“And do you, Esme Hollycombe, take this man, Zachary Raybourn, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” I was still bemused by the fact she’d written vows for me. We weren’t using them today, of course. Those would come later at our grand spectacle of a royal wedding for the people of Prylea and the press. Today was just for her father. Es bit her lip and glanced at the medical team who were serving as our witnesses. I wanted to pull her into my arms and hold her until that glitter of sadness left her eyes, but that wasn’t allowed. Per Es’s insistence, we were public figures now and needed to present a united—and stoic—front to the world during this difficult time.

“I do,” she said, blinking fast as I slid the diamond and gold wedding ring that had belonged to her mother—a matched set with the ruby engagement ring—onto Es’s finger. From his hospital bed, her father smiled and gave a small nod.

“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the chaplain closed the small Bible in his hands. “You may kiss your bride.”

Finally, something I had no hesitancy about. I leaned in slightly and brushed my lips across Es’s, keeping things chaste with all the onlookers watching.

A smattering of applause rang through the small crowd.

“Thank you,” the king said. “You’ve made me a very happy man.”

I accepted the congratulations of the medical staff and the chaplain and received backslaps and handshakes from my security team members. Es was inundated with kisses and hugs and one of the guards showed her video of the crowd downstairs cheering at the news that their princess was now legally wed.

The king drifted off to sleep shortly thereafter and Es and I sat by his bedside, a sad vigil for a man whose life was about to be cut far too short by a horrendous disease. The medical staff drifted in and out through the night, checking some things, fiddling with others. Es knitted, the clack of her needles a steady rhythm of comfort and consolation. Around three a.m. the heart rate monitor began to beep more slowly and the king’s breathing grew labored. Es’s grip on her knitting needles became white-knuckled, and I knew the end was near.

The buzz of the staff around the bedside and the call for a crash cart seemed surreal. I watched it all as if in slow motion, reaching for Es, but she pulled away, her gaze locked on her father in the bed as the team attempted CPR on his stopped heart before using the panels. They shocked him once, twice. Each time, the king’s body arching off the bed before flopping back down, pale and lifeless.

“Es,” I said, trying to lead her out of the room, but she pulled away again.

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